


divinarum

by eddiebear



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 05:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12575136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiebear/pseuds/eddiebear
Summary: It had always sounded so absurd, that beings like them, who preach forgiveness and compassion, cast out others without hesitation once they found out about that they learned how to love.





	divinarum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hannahkannao](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahkannao/gifts).



> To [violist-yamaguchi](http://violist-yamaguchi.tumblr.com) for the Haikyuu Fic Exchange! I hope you like it!

His first memory was a violent storm.

Flashes of lightning scarred the heaven as the clouds poured heavy raindrops that felt like needles digging into his skin. He shivered and curled close, breath labored and body twitching with intense pain.

Where was he?

_It’s so cold._

He couldn’t remember how many times he had blacked out and still woke up to the rain, before the pain forced him to lose consciousness. He thinks at one point he had woken up in a different place, how he got there a mystery to him. At first, it was an abandoned alley. Then it was on the side of a quiet pier. And then he ended up on a busy street, body slumped against a dirty wall. His tattered clothes did nothing to hide his shame. No one paid attention to the boy who might as well be dying.

He dreamed of a man lying on a hospital bed, eyes barely open, talking with another man who looked just like him. He dreamed of standing beside the hospital bed, caressing the patient’s curly blond hair, murmuring prayers and hymns under his breath. He dreamed of the sounds of the machines hooked to the man’s body, humming and beeping steadily.

And then everything vanished into darkness as he woke up once again, hyper aware of a presence standing before him.

It was raining.

_It’s so cold._

A tall man held an umbrella towards his pitiful form, his brown eyes glowing as a flash of lightning passed behind him. His clothes were mismatched but looked comfortable and warm, his ashen hair dripping against his face. Something about him felt wrong, like _he didn’t belong in this universe_.

The man opened his lips, and a loud ringing echoed in his ears. Sounds of trumpets and bells and voices too out of this world forced itself into his brain, and he cried out, feeling his entire body burn. It’s like something was awakened inside of him that was too big for his weakened body, struggling for control and release. He wanted to scratch his skin, scratch it away, until the burning stops, _please stop it-_

A roll of thunder drowned his voice.

He panted, shying away from the man with the umbrella. The man’s lips curled into an apologetic smile that felt so wrong to look at, but at the same time, felt so familiar. Comforting.

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

The next time he was fully awake, he found himself in a hospital bed.

Various tubes were connected on his arms, which were both dressed with bandages. His fingers were scabbed and bruised. The rest of his body was covered in a hospital gown, his legs with a big blanket.

The man with the umbrella was sitting on a chair, flipping on a pocketbook, his hair swept back and held by an elastic band. He seemed to have notice the stare, and he closed the book and placed it on the table where a paper bag rests.

“Finally. I thought you were going to spend another day passed out.”

…How long has he been out?

“Well, I guess you really needed a week’s worth of rest. I don’t know your living conditions before I found you, but man your wounds are badly infected. Doctors said you were also heavily malnourished; how you survived that is a miracle.” He chuckled, as if he just told a joke. “Sorry, this is pretty scary for you, right?”

… _Yeah_. He gave a tiny nod, and the man smiled.

“I’m Semi Eita, by the way. Do you have a name?”

He shook his head. When you’re phasing in and out of consciousness every hour, the last thing you worry about is having a name.

“We’ll work on that. Keep resting, okay? I’ll tell the doctors you’re awake, then let’s see if you can eat now.”

Semi stood up and left the room, gently closing the door behind him. He sighed, pushing his head back to the soft pillow. It’s no longer cold, but the occasional burst of air from the rotating fan made him shiver. He heard a rumble, and looked out on the window on the far side of the wall.

It was raining.

Why is it always raining?

He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. In, out, in, out, gently. On a lapse of losing concentration, an image of a man with curly blond hair lying motionless on a gurney popped into his mind. He could see the man’s face from above, his eyes close, his body unmoving. Devoid of life.

_Who is that?_

He returned to reality when the doors opened, and Semi entered with a woman wearing a white coat, followed by another woman with loose white uniform. _A nurse._

How did he know these things? As far as he’s concerned, he’s a nobody, with no particular identification, only memories of a patient in a hospital he doesn’t even know. But his heart was beating with purpose, and Semi looked at him expectantly. What does he want? He’s useless at his current state.

The woman in white coat spoke to him, and he understood.

* * *

 

“Semi-san, you really need to stop bringing him that crap.”

“W-What?”

“You shouldn’t be feeding him that processed garbage, especially when he’s currently too weak. At least bring him soup or porridge.”

“…I can’t cook.”

A sigh. “The cafeteria downstairs serves soup all day.”

* * *

 

A few more days in the hospital, and Semi told him he was in the clear.

“Ah, but before that, we need to give you a name. I can’t sign the release papers if you’re nameless.”

 _A name._ The word strikes him with an image of a dog, following its master around. A constant companion through thick and thin.

“…Tadashi,” he whispered. _Loyalty._

“That’s a good one.” Semi turned to one of his pocketbooks, idly thumbing the pages. “Do you like Yamaguchi as a surname? It’s pretty simple to write, and a common family name too.”

He nodded, leaning his back against the soft pillow. Semi nodded, and stood up.

“Alright, nice to meet you, Yamaguchi Tadashi.” He held out his hand. Shakily, Yamaguchi Tadashi reached out, clasping it on his own.

“Thank you, Semi-san.”

It was no longer raining outside.

* * *

 

Semi’s apartment is big enough to house two people. A small room was already set up as Yamaguchi’s bedroom, with a futon and a dresser on the corner.

“Since we’re pretty much the same build, I’m giving you some of my old clothes for now. Once you’re feeling okay to go out, we’ll go shopping.”

He nodded and followed the ashen haired man past the living room, where a big slab of polished rectangular stone sits on the middle, surrounded by stools. Yamaguchi touched the dark surface of the stone. Smooth. _Cold._

_Kitchen island._

Semi pulled out an electric kettle from a cupboard and plugged it on the wall socket by the counter. He dropped two small plastic bowls with sealed lids on the island, and sat across Yamaguchi.

“I know you don’t have much to work on right now, but after we get you settled down, I’ll introduce you to Shimada. He told me he needs more hands on the shop, and I think you’ll like it better than cooped up in here. Sometimes it gets lonely if you think too much. It’s better to busy yourself while adjusting.”

“Um, about… that…” He hesitated. “I really don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I know the recent ones don’t really remember much, and it’s actually for the better. Less emotional baggage and everything.”

That didn’t answer his question. Semi grabbed a notepad and a pen tucked in between two square containers on the corner of the island, and scribbled down something.

“Can you read this?”

Yamaguchi looked at the paper, and his eyes immediately stung, tears involuntarily falling. He scrubbed them away, forcibly looking at the writing. The symbols were archaic and honestly indecipherable, but he understood, and to know that he could actually read them were terrifying. _An old language. Older than humanity, than this universe._

_The language of…?_

It says…

“ _Welcome home_?”

“So you still can read it. Not sure if that’s a good thing, because everyone I’ve helped can’t.”

Yamaguchi wiped the tears that continued to fall. He gave Semi a wary glance. “What are you?”

The man smiled, as the electric kettle turned off, the steam rising from its spout.

“A helper.”

* * *

 

Shimada Makoto’s presence is a breath of relief for Yamaguchi. The man is all sunny smiles and patient voice, and for the first time since he woke up, Yamaguchi had eaten a proper meal. Shimada scolded Semi for feeding him nothing but instant trash, when he could’ve passed by the shop for the leftovers he would gladly give away.

Speaking of the shop, it could count as the one of the most wonderful places the brunet had seen (not that there’s much to compare anyway). The giant kitchen where giant pots lined up the wall, brewing the broth, the large fridge, the long sink, the table where the cooks were preparing the raw ingredients… it’s all so _warm_.

Within a few hours, Yamaguchi had learned the basics of putting together tonkotsu and shio ramen. The mild burns on his fingers were nothing compared the smile of approval on Shimada’s face and the pat on his shoulder.

Yamaguchi was given a few key ingredients and was instructed to practice at home, at least enough to convince Semi to stop buying crap and eat real food for once. He didn’t really understand, but he hefted up the plastic bag of vegetables and meat, walking home alone and staring up at the moon slowly making its ascent up the dark sky.

_If I cook for Semi, will that be enough payment for the help he gave to me?_

Now that he thought about it, Semi might be tall, but he’s not exactly bulky enough for his height. Is he not gaining weight because of those convenience store meals?

_But I don’t know much about cooking. The ramen was easy to make because the broth and toppings were already prepared beforehand._

He gripped the plastic bag tighter.

_No, no. I can’t think like that. If I was able to put together some orders, maybe I can put together a meal for him._

* * *

 

“What is that?”

“Ah… um, it’s just… a katsudon bowl. I saw it on TV and I thought I’d try making it.”

“And this… tuna roll?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry it’s lopsided, I still don’t get how to roll it properly so- ah! Ah…”

“…It’s good. Thank you.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah. Good job.”

* * *

 

Yamaguchi first met Tsukishima on a rainy day.

It was rush hour and the shop was filling up with people looking for shelter and warmth. The kitchen staff was getting swamped with orders left and right, and Yamaguchi had to fix his hair for the fifth time just to get his unruly hair out of the way.

The bells above the door chimed in as it opened, and a tall man with dripping blond hair came in heaving, shivering and mumbling about the dreary weather. He sat in front on the counter and shrugged off his coat, sighing. The brunet rushed to give him a cup of green tea, a complimentary drink for everyone trapped by the weather.

“Thank you,” he whispered, shooting glances at him while scrutinizing the giant menu board above.

 _He looked familiar_ , Yamaguchi mused. _Like the boy on the gurney in my dreams._

He ordered a bowl of shoyu ramen, his golden eyes staring at him intently. It reminded him of the first time he met Semi; a pair of glowing eyes watching over as the rain poured like an endless river.

The blond customer came back the next day. And the next day. And he became a regular.

One slow afternoon, Yamaguchi thought it wouldn’t be rude to start up a conversation. There’s only one other customer, and they busy eating on the far back of the shop.

The blond customer ordered a miso ramen.

“I feel like you’re trying to taste everything on the menu,” Yamaguchi joked.

“Ah,” he took off his glasses and wiped them with a small piece of cloth. “I’m trying to decide which one I like.”

He said his name is Tsukishima Kei, and he works at the shopping district nearby. He likes books and technology. There’s a dog café he frequents when he’s stressed. He’s attending the local university. When he was a boy, he got into a sort of accident that impaired his eyes. He has an older brother.

Compared to him, Yamaguchi felt so boring. He doesn’t have a past he can share, his interests only spans on cooking and food, and compared to Tsukishima, he’s definitely lacking in the visual department. But Tsukishima looked comfortable talking to him, and ever since then only came during the slow hours so they could talk.

“Don’t you have fixed hours where you work?” Yamaguchi asked one day.

“Well, I’m more of a manager. The shop is a family business, so they’re not really strict with me.”

“How lucky.”

* * *

 

Semi was confused.

The amount of angelic essence in Yamaguchi’s body was steadily increasing, even though that was _not_ supposed to happen. It was supposed to taper off until Yamaguchi stopped being affected by the angelic activity that Semi could still do, like speak the language of messengers. A normal human wouldn’t even hear the traces of his divine voice or notice the glow in his eyes. But Yamaguchi had mentioned them more than once, a question in his eyes, _are you okay, is this normal, why am I seeing these_?

The brunet was humming to himself, mixing a thick red sauce with various condiments and leaves thrown into it. It’s been two months since he met the boy, and he’s already good at the very thing Semi sucked badly. The added mass on his body from Yamaguchi’s food excursions felt weird but not unwelcomed.

But for the more important matter…

“Did you meet someone… strange?”

“Huh?”

“Ah… nothing. Sorry, that was a weird question.”

The brunet blinked, and tossed the ground pork on the bubbling tomato sauce. “Well, I met a guy who’s now a regular. His name is Tsukishima, and he’s really cool.”

“What does he look like?”

“Um, really tall, blond hair, wears glasses. He said it was because he got into some kind of accident when he was a kid.”

_Tsukishima. Blond hair._

_The accident where he became blind and bedridden._

_The accident where Yamaguchi himself tried to save Tsukishima from._

Fuck. He became an angel in such a short time?

_And he’s already made contact with Yamaguchi._

The irony made him grimace. This is really bad. He needs to stop this… whatever the relationship that is blooming between Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. If he would, he’d just erase Yamaguchi’s memories and take him away from Shimada’s shop, but he’s running low on energy and would probably damage his human exterior if he tried to pull off more powerful magic than he can handle.

And if he did that, well… he didn’t want the other angels’ attention.

* * *

 

“I know what you’re doing.”

Tsukishima stopped walking, and turned to the voice.

“And who might you be?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. Stay away from Yamaguchi. He’s already under my care.”

“Oh? I didn’t know fallen angels still have power over others.”

“Look, unless you want to get into trouble, stay away from him.”

“I’m not taking advice from someone who committed a grave enough sin to have his wings taken away.”

The man with ashen hair and sharp brown eyes let out a bitter laugh.

“Fine. Do it your way. Good luck one day when your own feathers fall off because you didn’t listen to me.”

* * *

 

The sky was turning gray, the quiet whisper of the cold wind brushing past the thick crowd hurrying home.

Tsukishima will never get used to this kind of coldness. He sighed, tugging his coat up to his neck, huffing out a smoky wisp of breath. He quickly walked towards his nightly destination, pushing the heavy wooden door open. The overhead bells rang softly, followed by the clanking of pots and kettles.

“Welcome!” A voice from the counter called. He shrugged off his coat and sat down on one of the many stools in front of the counter, near the blasting heater. Soft music lulled from the corner speakers, and mixed with the familiar chatter from the patrons, Tsukishima felt at rest.

The brunet stopped in front of him, a big smile on his tired, freckled face. “You’re late today. The usual, Tsukki?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. The man turned to the small window dividing the front of the restaurant and the kitchen, speaking to the cooks. His hair looked longer now; tied up in a messy ponytail, small braids lining on the side, head covered with a hairnet.

As far as Tsukishima knows, he goes by the name Yamaguchi Tadashi.

With a tilt of his head, Tsukishima’s eyes glowed, blurring out everything except the brunet who was still moving around. A pulse of light shone brightly from Yamaguchi’s chest.

He blinked, and the world around him returned into its previous colors.

_That light was supposed to go out by now. How come he still have those?_

Angels who broke the laws of heaven were punished by having their powers and wings removed, and are cast out of the kingdom to live as humans. He didn’t know what rule Yamaguchi Tadashi had broken for him to be sent down, and at first, he didn’t really care, until he saw the amount of angelic essence stored on his human vessel.

He understood, then, that there’s another fallen angel whose light hasn’t vanished yet, that was feeding Yamaguchi’s life to help him recover. Perhaps Yamaguchi’s landing into the human realm wasn’t kind to his body, and literal divine intervention was needed to save him. Fallen angels have a small amount of essence left to help them survive the first few days of being human, until it fades away with their angel status.

That fact aside, there was just something in the brunet that pulls him in, like an old friend whose presence was like a fire in the middle of a harsh winter. It warms his heart and makes him scoot close.

_Dangerous._

Yamaguchi dropped a bowl of soup in front of him with another smile, before turning to the new customers who also sat on the front. The blond looked down and picked up a spoon, breathing into the bowl and directing the steam to his freezing face.

* * *

 

The night was cold, and Yamaguchi has never been thankful for the big and thick scarf winded around his neck and mouth. He shivered violently, huddling close to Tsukishima.

“S-Sorry, it’s just, I’m r-really weak to cold, a-achoo!”

Tsukishima hovered behind him, shielding him from the cold wind. “Let me have that,” he grabbed the plastic of leftovers he packed from the shop, and took his hand. The warmth between their skin sent his heart beat erratic.

_What’s this feeling?_

They walked together to the train station, chatting quietly about trivial things. There weren’t many people outside because of the worsening weather, and the silence of the sidewalk amplified their heavy breaths as they trudge up the road.

They stopped under the big sign indicating the station, and Yamaguchi turned to the blond.

“Thanks for walking me,” he smiled, sniffing. “Sorry, I know you live farther away but-”

“It’s fine, Yamaguchi.” He handed back the leftovers, their hands lingering on each other.

Yamaguchi looked straight into his eyes, a strange mixture of burning hotness and chilling electricity running down his spine. Tsukishima opened his mouth, and a sound so out of this world filled his ears, piercing through his brain, pulsing, vibrating.

He didn’t notice the blond leaning down, too preoccupied by the sudden burst of sound. He didn’t notice the gentle press of lips against his, until it was too late, and he gasped, pulling away.

He blinked.

Tsukishima was no longer there.

Yamaguchi coughed into his hand, and turned to the station to warm himself up.

* * *

 

It had always sounded so absurd to Tsukishima, that beings like them, who preach forgiveness and compassion, cast out others without hesitation once they found out about that they learned how to love.

He looked down on the clump of feathers on the ground, grinding his teeth in pain.

_This is love._

One of the most powerful forces to ever exist. God’s love created the universe, and every existing being that graced the Earth. Love caused tragedies, wars, births of people both just and evil. Love brought sickness, induced pain, and drove many to insanity.

A flutter of wings appeared in front of him, and he backed away. Someone already sensed his unraveling, this is bad news.

“Messengers of the Lord are not allowed to feel love,” the angel spoke. Their eyes are blank, but Tsukishima could hear the tinge of pain in their voice. “We are His hands; we must not feel any hesitance when doing His bidding.”

“What are you talking about?”

The angel looked away from him, casting their eyes on the horizon. “The being now named Yamaguchi Tadashi was the angel who caused you to ascend faster than you should. He broke the rule of heaven regarding our relationships with humans.” He floated gracefully, his wings brilliant. “It’s not exactly forbidden to fall in love with humans, but we are not allowed to interfere with their lives. He gave you his angelic essence, to try and save you from the accident. But he was too late. You died before he could truly save you.”

Tsukishima shivered, using his wings to cover himself.

“Now he has fallen from grace, the least you could do is justify his sacrifice.” The angel turned to him once more. “Don’t meet him anymore. You’re unconsciously giving bits of your own essence to him.”

“I… I do?”

The angel nodded, before raising his wings in flight.

“Live the life he gave up for you.”

* * *

 

Semi levelled him with a glare.

“Why are you here now? Go back where you need to be.”

Shirabu Kenjirou didn’t meet his eyes. “I already warned Tsukishima about the consequences. So you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” His wings were folded neatly on his back, his legs perched on the lamp post.

The park was empty, given it was already night, and only the night joggers passing by could be seen. It’s too cold to stay outside, and Semi was just on his way home from work when he saw the familiar golden wings.

“…yeah, whatever. Thanks, I guess.”

The wings stretched over upwards, as if in preparation for flight. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you even sorry for?”

Shirabu sighed. He turned away, facing the night sky behind him.

He began to sing.

The song was full of sadness and longing. Of a lover waiting for their partner to come home. Of a parent watching out on the window, wishing safety for his children. Of a lonely lad wanting to rekindle a friendship with a long lost friend.

It screams of desperation, of grasping into whatever sliver of hope that one day their wishes will be granted, their aches relieved, their burdens lifted.

Semi has heard the song for decades now. It’s the only song that Shirabu sings for him.

“I’m never coming back, Kenjirou, you know that more than anyone.” He whispered a few moments after the song ended.

“I wish I didn’t know.”

 _Better to know now than continuously cry in the dark_ , he mused.

“What can I do to change your mind?”

“No,” he snarled. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare fall from grace.”

Shirabu unfurled his wings and vanished, leaving behind a trail of tears.

Semi left in silence.


End file.
